Since about March of this year, I’ve been getting back into the habit of exercising. I like to exercise at night, not for any particular reason. I guess it makes me feel like I’m working for my bedtime.
The idea of willingly putting myself through so much torture was, at one time, unheard of. But now, I find myself looking forward to working out more and more. I still don’t entirely identify with people who work out all day every day, but I do set aside about a half-hour five days a week. And, while I don’t exercise a ton, I’m starting to understand how people can get addicted to the feeling.
Sometimes I push myself too hard and too far, resulting in many sore and strained muscles. When I feel pain – not just average “workout” discomfort, but genuine pain – I stop. I have to listen to my body and give it a rest. I don’t give up on exercising entirely, but I’ll allow myself a day or two to heal.
I find this is harder to do with other pursuits; grappling with the idea of stopping versus stopping “for now” can be a challenge. For example, when I’m trying to write something (such as this post), and I’m hit with writer’s block. There are some days where it feels like I should give up completely, but then I have to remind myself: I’m not stopping, I’m just standing still. Stopping implies an end.
It’s okay to take a break once in a while. It’s okay to breathe. There are times when stopping, full-stop, is necessary. There are other times when a pause is all you need.
Just stand still, catch your breath, and keep moving forward.